


Guess We're Going Vegan

by PictoJournalist



Series: AdriNath August (my favorite month of the year) [5]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (but an attempt was made), Adrinath August, Bad Cooking, Established Relationship, Living Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PictoJournalist/pseuds/PictoJournalist
Summary: For AdriNath August Day 5, CookingWhen Adrien and Nathaniel finally got their own apartment, Adrien was surprised to find out how easily they worked together to maintain an actual home. However, he didn't quite realize that neither of them could cook.





	Guess We're Going Vegan

**Author's Note:**

> My first publication on a day right after work! This might give you a clue on the quality of my work for a good chunk of the rest of the month, but don't worry, I'll try a little harder next time since today was a longer day than usual! Sorry if it's a little awkward and blocky, but this idea was rolling around in my head all day and I had no idea where to start. Anyways, enjoy!

Adrien didn’t expect to move into a tiny apartment someday, much less be entirely content with it. That was before his boyfriend of four years suggested the idea. Even then, he still worried that moving in with Nathaniel could possibly be a total mess. First of all, he’d lived in a mansion for his entire life. Moving from that to an apartment of questionable quality would probably be a challenge. Also, neither of them had a roommate before, and living together could cause them to start getting annoyed with each other. That was the last thing Adrien wanted to happen.

He was surprised to find out that most of his worries wouldn’t be problems at all. They might not have lived together before, but they’d certainly spent enough time together and figured out a method of clear communication between them that allowed them cover most issues that could possibly arise in the future. Each of them also seemed to have agreed on how to split their workload with maintaining the household with no qualms at all.

Adrien completely forgot, however, that he and Nathaniel never discussed how to cover one very important part of living together.

“Before you get any closer,” Adrien heard Nathaniel say on day one from around the corner just as he was about to walk into the kitchen, “just know that I’ve never done anything wrong in my life, and what you’re about to see is definitely not my fault.” 

His unnaturally calm tone compared to the words he spoke concerned Adrien and only caused him to turn the corner quicker. “What isn’t your—?” 

What “wasn’t” Nathaniel’s fault brought Adrien to a sudden halt. There was melted cheese everywhere from the countertop where the open George Foreman grill sat to the tiled floor beneath, and it continued dripping even as Nathaniel wiped it down with a dry towel. He more insistently wiped down the crusty edges of cheese that had reformed into a solid with time. When the more solid parts of the mess got wiped down, it was a bit alarming to see that part of the countertop paint had chipped off, and it even looked like some parts of it had melted off entirely. The grill itself was still smoking, though it was already unplugged.

“Okay, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, ever,” Adrien agreed while picking up another towel and helping wipe up the mess, “but what were you _making_?” 

Nathaniel mumbled something under his breath, scrubbing away. 

“Nath?” 

“Grilled cheese sandwiches.” 

“Grilled cheese sandwiches,” Adrien repeated, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing. He recognized the general outline of two slices of bread within the ashes remaining in the grill once he looked closer at it . “Does this happen every time you make grilled cheese sandwiches?” 

“Yes, I specifically plan for each one to burn through the kitchen table—no, Adrien, I just forgot I turned it on. And… also forgot to shut it.”

“Okay, so this was a one-time mistake, no big deal—”

“Three times,” Nathaniel sighed. 

Adrien stopped cleaning up the spilled cheese and stared at Nathaniel. “What, forgetting to close it?”

“All of this,” Nathaniel gestured to the mess. “Two other times, both at home. Adrien, I think I have a confession to make.”

“Say no more.” Adrien wrapped an arm around Nathaniel, still holding the towel. “We can do takeout tonight, but tomorrow, I'll take care of the cooking part. Sound good?”

Nathaniel made a face. 

“What? I can cook. I'm _so_ good at cooking. You may have never seen me cook, but I completely can.”

“It’s not that,” Nathaniel said, lifting the towel in Adrien’s hand away from him. Melted cheese clung all the way across his shirt and the upper part of his pants. 

“...Oops.” Adrien pulled the arm with the towel back to himself, then cursed under his breath when he only managed to splatter the liquidized cheese around Nathaniel’s back. He looked back up and, with a bashful smile, offered, “I'll pay for that takeout?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, ran his hand across where the gooiest cheese on his clothes landed, and smeared the cheese across Adrien’s shirt.

* * *

“Nath, I have a confession to make,” Adrien admitted hurriedly over the sound of the fire alarm into his phone the next afternoon. 

_“Adrien? What's wrong? Is—is that the fire alarm? Are you okay?! I'm coming home right now, alright?!”_

“I'm _fine_ , and the apartment’s okay,” he continued loudly, “but apparently spaghetti is _not_ that easy to make because I walked away from the stove for _two_ seconds and the fire alarm just started going off because the noodles caught on fire a little bit, and the fire’s out now but I don’t know what to do about the alarm.”

 _“Oh, thank goodness,”_ he heard Nathaniel sigh on the other end. _“Okay, there's a little black button on the side of the fire alarm, you might have to feel around for it a little bit. That should turn it off for now.”_

Adrien followed his boyfriend’s instructions, but it took him a minute or two to actually locate the off button to switch it off. By the time it was off, Adrien was so relieved that he flopped into one of the kitchen chairs and gave a weak victory whoop. “Thanks, babe, everything's good now,” he reassured back into the phone. 

Nathaniel didn't respond. 

“Nath?”

_“So you're saying this all happened over spaghetti?”_

Nathaniel’s words had no menace in them; in fact, they sounded a bit amused and sly. 

Adrien coughed, embarrassment catching up to him. “Um, it was a one-time mistake?”

_“Adrien Agreste, are you only saying that because you've never made spaghetti in your entire life?”_

“I looked up the instructions online!” Adrien exclaimed. “I was doing pretty well until that part, too!”

_“I’m sure you were, but you still almost set the house on fire. Will you be completely offended if I suggest you never make spaghetti again unless someone’s supervising you?”_

“My heart is moderately to severely wounded by that suggestion, but I agree entirely.”

_“Thank you. Do you want me to get takeout for us on the way home?”_

“That would be nice. ...Hey, Nath?”

_“Yeah?”_

“You realize this means neither of us can cook at all, right?”

There was a pause. _“I guess that means we’re ordering takeout a lot more then, huh?”_

* * *

Even though neither Adrien nor Nathaniel could cook, it didn't mean that they were doomed. That was how those two saw it, anyways. They still had a microwave and a refrigerator, and they regularly went grocery shopping to at least have _something_ inside the fridge and cabinets at all times. That was enough to technically qualify as “not depending entirely off of takeout,” at least by their terms.

During one of their brief grocery trips, Adrien checked his phone upon hearing a text notification. His expression went from calm-neutral to absolute terror in about half a second. 

“Nath,” Adrien tugged on Nathaniel’s sleeve insistently, “we actually need to learn how to cook and _fast_.”

Nathaniel had been peacefully contemplating different lunch meats at Adrien’s sudden announcement, which startled him so much that he dropped the container of turkey he had been holding. “What? Why? What’s happening?” 

“My father just texted. He says he wants to come over for dinner sometime this week. He knows I can’t cook. I mean, at least I think he knows. I don’t know, is he doing this to mock me? And why is he paying attention to me like this now? I swear, if he says one word against the apartment just because it’s not as big or flashy as the mansion, I’ll scream.” 

“I’m more than half convinced no dish, cooked or not, could satisfy Gabriel Agreste if the ingredients came from a basic grocery store. Where does he even get groceries from?”

“See, I know so little about my own father that I have no idea. All I know is that he’ll be expecting a dinner that _isn’t_ leftover takeout and if he isn’t satisfied, I might be forced to move back in with him. I’m really sure that’s a possibility, and I don’t like that.”

In their own panic, Adrien started searching “how to cook without cooking” on his phone while Nathaniel skimmed across what he could of the entire store to see if he could get any ideas of his own. His gaze eventually wandered over to the produce section. 

“Don’t rich people eat… don’t they eat, like, avocados? Kale and avocados?”

Adrien snapped his fingers in realization. “Yes! Good thinking, Nath. Kale and avocado salad, then? Wait, we need fancy dressing, too. Some sort of expensive vinaigrette, chia seeds, maybe we can buy a rotisserie chicken and chop it up and say we did that? No, he’ll know we didn’t cook that, those chickens are so greasy, he’d taste it right away. We’ll stick to fruit and vegetables and say we’re going vegan. Yeah, that’ll impress him.” 

“I guess we’re going vegan,” Nathaniel shrugged, tossing the container of sliced turkey he’d seen earlier into the cart before they started walking to the produce section. 

“Just for the one day,” Adrien reminded as he trailed along.

“No, it’s too late, I’m already buying out all the tofu to live out my new vegan life happily.”

* * *

The day that Gabriel had visited the apartment, he seemed to fall right for their lie. He wasn’t necessarily impressed with the salad they’d managed to put together, but there was no way that it could have been burnt or otherwise destroyed, but there wasn’t necessarily a stamp of _dis_ approval, either, so that was fine.

The problem was that, within a few weeks, they were both aware of how much their lack-of-cooking situation was wearing down on them. There were limited choices that could remain appetizing for more than a few days, for starters. Nathaniel had also brought up a couple of times how he was a bit worried how expensive getting takeout so frequently was going to be for them. 

Adrien was so restless about it that he broke a very crucial rule. 

Since Nathaniel often worked a little bit later than Adrien, he usually called after work to see if Adrien had any preferences of where he wanted to get dinner from. That day, as soon as he left work and looked at his phone, he found a text saying _I covered dinner, come home. Love you <3._

When Nathaniel came home and saw what Adrien had left on the kitchen table, the first words to come out of his mouth were “I thought we agreed you’re banned from spaghetti.” The next, quickly following, were “But I’m too thankful that it’s an actual homemade dinner, and I love you so, _so_ much.” 

“I still don’t get why the secret is putting a wooden spoon over the pot,” Adrien admitted while poking at his plate of spaghetti. “It’s so specific, I just—I don’t know. People who can cook speak a whole different language, and I swear I’m gonna learn it if it’s the last thing I do. ” 

Nathaniel hummed and nodded, gently tapping the tips of the fork against the plate. “You know what? Me too. So what if I’ve caused liquidized cheese volcanoes on kitchen counters three times? I can work past that if you can work past almost setting the house on fire.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Adrien grinned. “But, hey, if you’re really into this, apparently there’s this basic cooking class about to start up about a week from now. I mean, it might have a bunch of kids in it, I’m not sure, but what do you think? Maybe that can give us some help?” 

“I think it’s worth a try,” Nathaniel nodded. “...So that means we’re not going vegan like we told your dad we were?” 

“Nath, oh my god.”


End file.
